The Undead Next Door

CHAPTER 22

Heather moved close to her daughter. Ian unsheathed his sword, and Fidelia removed a pistol from her purse.

Phil peered through the blinds on the window beside the front door. "It's the UPS man." He punched a button on an intercom speaker. "Leave the packages on the porch."

"This could be legitimate." Ian rested the sword blade against his shoulder. "Jean-Luc was ordering things online Sunday night."

"What's going on, Mama?" Bethany whispered as she took hold of Heather's hand.

"It's…a surprise." A pleasant one, Heather hoped.

Phil continued to spy through the window. "We've got four boxes. He's leaving now. Stay back. The sun's up."

Ian moved out of the way. Phil opened the door, and a slash of sunlight shot across the showroom floor. Above the shiny marble, golden dust motes danced in sunlit air.

Heather glanced at Ian to see if he was all right. His eyes glistened with moisture.

She walked toward him. "Are you in pain?"

He shook his head. "It's been a verra long time since I've seen sunlight. I never thought I'd see it again. 'Tis so…beautiful."

Heather turned away. It was hard to stay prejudiced against these vampires. The slash of light disappeared as Phil exited and shut the door. She moved to the window where Phil had peeked out earlier.

"You shouldna stand so close," Ian warned her.

Did he think the packages would explode like her truck? She peeked out the window to make sure Phil was all right. "Oh my gosh, he's sniffing the boxes."

"Phil can smell a bomb," Ian said. "Please move back."

"Phil can smell—" Her question was interrupted when the door opened and Phil pushed a box inside.

"This one's safe." He shut the door.

"Who's it for?" Bethany ran forward to look at it.

"Bring it here." Ian sheathed his sword, then drew the smaller blade from his knee sock. "I'll open it for you."

Bethany pushed the box to Ian just as Phil shoved a second box inside. "This is fun!" She pushed the second box to Ian. "Open it!"

Ian had already sliced the packaging tape on the first box. He dug through some Styrofoam peanuts and pulled out a beautiful doll wearing an elaborate dress.

Bethany squealed and held out her arms. "It's for me!"

"Good Lord," Heather whispered, moving closer.

Ian removed several plastic bags, each one containing another lovely outfit for the doll. "Och, ye can tell a fashion designer picked these out. Verra fancy."

"I love her!" Bethany spun around, holding the doll.

Heather turned to Fidelia. "We can't keep this stuff."

Fidelia snorted. "Try taking that away from your daughter."

Heather winced. "He's being sneaky and manipulative."

"I'd say he's clever and generous," Fidelia muttered. "But then, what the hell do I know?"

Ian emptied the first box and found a few picture books. Heather sighed. Jean-Luc would make an excellent father if he wasn't a monster. With a jolt, she remembered that Roman was a father.

What if Jean-Luc used the same procedure? Could he actually become a father?

"All done." Phil shoved the last two boxes inside, then shut and locked the front door. Meanwhile, Ian had the second box open. It contained an antique set of hand-painted tarot cards.Fidelia clasped them to her chest. She looked at Heather. "You're loco if you let him go."

Heather frowned at her. "I can't be bought."

Ian opened the third box and pulled out something made of a rich black taffeta. He handed it to Heather.

It was a black cocktail dress, and just her size. Jean-Luc was probably trying to replace the one he'd torn last Friday. She admired the classic styling and superb craftsmanship. It had probably cost a small fortune.

"Can't be bought?" Fidelia asked wryly.

"No." Heather laid the dress back into the box. "I'll be returning this."

Ian dug into the fourth box, then quickly closed it. With a blush staining his youthful face, he pushed the box toward Heather. "It's for you."

"What did you get, Mama?" Bethany danced over, waving her doll in the air.

Heather pulled out something red and lacy. A bra. She stuffed it back in. "It's nothing. Just clothes."

"Oh." Bethany turned away, disappointed.

"Let me see." Fidelia inched closer.

Heather fumbled under the peanuts and pulled out another item. Black lacy underwear. She stuffed it back in.

Fidelia chuckled. "That Juan-Luc. He's a naughty one."

Heather shook her head. He'd ordered this stuff Sunday night? Had he planned on seducing her all along? She pulled out a midnight-blue silk nightgown, edged with lace. Yep, apparently, he had.

"Mmm, muy romantico," Fidelia whispered.

Heather closed the box, feeling the heat of a blush. Even Ian and Phil looked embarrassed. They were studying a shadow on the wall.

"I'm not keeping this stuff." She stacked her two boxes neatly. "I refuse to be in his debt."

Fidelia shook her head. "I don't care what you say. I'm not giving back my new cards."

They all proceeded to the design studio. Curtains had been drawn across the French doors along the back wall. The furniture from the kitchen had been arranged in a front corner, away from Heather's sewing machine. She could sew all day without interfering with Fidelia's ability to watch television.

The morning passed without further incident. Lunch was a little creepy when Ian sauntered into the kitchen, sipping something red from a glass.

Alberto joined them a bit later. "Do you have any idea where Sasha is? She never showed up for our lunch date."

Heather shrugged. "She's at some spa in San Antonio."

"I called there, and she checked out."

"Oh." Heather took a bite of her turkey sandwich while she considered. "Her mom lives nearby. Sasha might be visiting her." Or she might be avoiding Alberto.

He frowned at his sandwich. "I suppose."

"I'm sure she'll be back in time for the charity show," Heather said. "There's no way she'd miss that."

Alberto nodded. "That reminds me. We need to set up a runway in the showroom. Do you know any local carpenters?"

Phil shook his head. "We don't want strange workmen coming in."

"I've got an idea." Heather carried her plate to the sink. "The high school where I teach put on a musical last year, and they built a runway into the orchestra pit. I could check to see if they still have it."

"Good." Alberto looked relieved. "See if they can bring it here. I'll work on the invitation list."

"No more than twenty guests," Ian warned him.

Alberto scoffed. "That's ridiculous!"

Ian arched an eyebrow. "Ye can say that after what happened to Pierre?"

"But once I invite the school board members, and the mayor and city council, that will be almost twenty guests," Alberto protested.

"The show will be small," Ian repeated. "Jean-Luc's orders. Safety first."

Alberto left the room, grumbling.

The rest of them returned to the studio where Heather worked while Fidelia and Bethany tried all the outfits on the new doll. It was almost six o'clock when Ian stumbled and caught the edge of a worktable to steady himself.

"Something wrong?" Phil walked toward him.

"I feel…strange."

Heather stopped sewing to watch.

Ian doubled over with a long moan.

She rushed over to him. "Are you all right?"

"Nay." He stumbled forward, then collapsed to his knees. He breathed heavily, and sweat glistened on his brow. "I feel verra—" With a groan, he covered his face.

Heather knelt beside him. "Is there anything we can do?"

He cried out, then fell on the floor.

Heather looked at Phil. "We've got to do something."

With a grimace, he shook his head. "We can't take him anywhere. The sun would fry him. And there's no way to explain this to a doctor."

Ian let out a long moan.

"But he's suffering," she whispered.

"Mama, what's wrong with Ian?" Bethany started toward them, but Fidelia pulled her back.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Heather responded. "He's just a little…sick. Something he ate."

Ian cried out again and suddenly stretched out stiff. His hands gripped his face, the knuckles white.

"What can we do?" Heather leaned over him. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he breathed. "My face. It feels like it's ripping in two."

Heather touched his shoulder. "You can't take that drug anymore."

"I have to."

"No, you don't. Phil can watch over us during the day. I won't have you suffering because of us."

"'Tis not just for you," Ian groaned. "'Tis for me."

"What do you mean?"

Phil squatted beside them. "He'll age a year for each day he takes the drug."

Heather couldn't imagine why anyone would want to age.

"I'm four hundred and eighty years old," Ian muttered. "I'm a full grown man trapped in the body of a fifteen-year-old. I canna go on like this."

"But this is hurting you," Heather protested.

"I doona care." Ian cried out again and rolled into a fetal position. "I–I need to look older. I want to find true love…like you and Jean-Luc."

She started to deny that she felt anything like love for Jean-Luc, but she noticed that Ian's body had gone still. His hands fell away from his face. "He—he's not breathing."

Phil pressed fingers against Ian's neck. "His heart has stopped."

"Oh my God." Heather fell back onto her rear. "This can't be happening." She scrambled to her feet. "He can't be…" Dead? Weren't vampires already dead? "What—what's going to happen to him?"

"I'm not sure." Phil ran a hand through his thick brown hair. "I can think of two possibilities. It could be that the drug has worn off, and Ian has simply gone into his daily death-sleep. That would be good since he's no longer feeling any pain."

"And the second possibility?"

Phil frowned. "The drug might have killed him."

"No!" Tears sprang to her eyes. "He can't die. All he wanted was an older face and a chance at true love." Dammit, these vampires were way too human.

"I don't think he's dead. At least, not permanently." Phil studied the inert body. "In my experience, a truly dead vampire will turn to dust."

"When will we know for sure?" Heather wiped her eyes.

"When the sun sets. If he's all right, his heart will start beating again." Phil pointed at his face.

"Does he look different to you?"

"No." Heather examined him more closely. "Actually, yes. I think his jaw is a little bigger. And he has more of a five o'clock shadow."

Phil nodded. "Growing pains. That's what he was feeling. A year's worth of growing pains. I think he might be a little taller, too."

Heather frowned at the dead body. "Didn't the inventor of this drug know this would happen?"

Phil shook his head. "Roman never felt any pain. Of course, he was already about thirty years old. Since he was full grown, it wasn't such a shock to his body."

"Roman took the drug himself?"

"Yes. After his son was born, he took it for a week to help out with the baby. But then his hair started turning gray, and they realized what was happening."

Heather rose to her feet. "I don't think Ian should take it again. Surely there are female vampires who would understand his problem and accept him as he is?"

Phil stood. "I don't know. But I think this is his decision."

Heather disagreed and decided to talk to Jean-Luc about it. Right after she returned the clothes he'd bought. Shoot, so much for her plan to avoid him completely.

She looked down at Ian's body. "We can't just leave him lying here on the cold hard floor."

Phil's blue eyes twinkled with humor. "He's not feeling anything, believe me."

"It just looks so uncomfy." Heather searched the shelves and located two bolts of soft flannel. She slid one under Ian's head for a pillow and unrolled the other to make him a blanket.

They took a break for supper. She called the insurance company to check on her house, then she called the drama coach from Guadalupe High. Liz Schumann was delighted to offer her runway and to model one of Heather's gowns in the show. Liz promised to have her new boyfriend deliver the runway over the weekend, and Heather promised to give him a few tickets to the event.

After supper, they returned to the design studio and the dead body on the floor. Heather finished the first gown and looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. The sun would set soon. She said a silent prayer for Ian that he would wake up. Then she shook her head in dismay. It was happening. She could no longer view these vampires as monsters.

And she was getting drawn into their world.

Jean-Luc woke with the usual electrifying jolt that shot through his body and jump-started his heart. He rushed through his shower and breakfast, for he needed to know as quickly as possible that nothing bad had happened during the day. Was Heather all right? How had Ian fared his first day on the stay-awake drug?

He dressed in gray slacks and a maroon polo shirt—normal clothes. He only hoped Heather wouldn't look at him like she had last night, with that look of horror and disgust in her eyes. He had to win her back somehow.

He checked the kitchen, but they weren't there. As he exited, he saw Fidelia leading Bethany toward the stairs.

"Oh, Juan-Luc!" She grinned. "Thank you for the lovely presents." She cradled the box of tarot cards against her chest.

"I love my new doll." Bethany held it up so he could see. "Her name is Princess Katherine."

"I like that." So the items he'd ordered on Sunday night had arrived. "Do you know where your mother is?"

Bethany pointed down the hall.

"They're all in the studio." Fidelia lowered her voice. "Waiting for Ian to wake up."

Jean-Luc stiffened. "He's not…awake?"

Bethany giggled. "He sleeps too much."

Fidelia winced. "Come on, little one. Let's get you in the tub." She hustled Bethany up the stairs. Jean-Luc zoomed to the studio and stopped.

Heather was kneeling on the floor beside Ian, with Robby, Phineas, and Phil surrounding them. She glanced up at Jean-Luc. His heart lurched in his chest. Her eyes no longer showed disgust, but they were glistening with pain. Her generous nature was taking Ian's dilemma to heart.

"I need to talk to you." She rose to her feet and moved away, obviously so they could have some privacy. She didn't know yet that it was unnecessary, for Vamps had super hearing. "How could you let him do something so dangerous?"

"I objected," Jean-Luc answered quietly. "But in the end, I couldn't force him to abstain. It was his decision."

"But he may have killed himself just so he can have a chance at true love." Heather wiped her eyes. "It's sad."

"An honorable man will sacrifice all for true love."

She glanced at him, her eyes widening.

"When Roman took the drug, he was late to wake, too." Jean-Luc turned to watch Ian. "I believe he will wake."

A silence fell between them as they waited.

Robby turned to Phineas. "Go see if Fidelia and the wee lass are all right. We'll let ye know what happens here."

"All right." Phineas trudged out of the room.

"And ye're off the clock, lad," Robby murmured to Phil. "Ye doona need to stay."

"Yeah, I do." Phil folded his arms across his chest.

Heather drew a deep breath. "We got the boxes of stuff you ordered."

Jean-Luc faced her. "Did you like the dress?"

"It's lovely." She avoided looking at him. "But I can't keep it."

"Why not?" Was she punishing him?

"I don't want to be…beholden to you. You've already given me a great job and a safe place to stay."

"You saved my life, Heather. I am beholden to you."

"Oh, I'm sure you could have handled Louie on your own." She waved a hand in dismissal.

"You're the European fencing champion, remember?"

"But I didn't have a sword, remember?"

Scowling, she turned to face him. "I'm quite sure you could have defeated him without my help. You're…muy macho, as Fidelia would put it."

"Merci. Though you needn't look so annoyed by it."

She crossed her arms. "I still can't keep the dress or the other…stuff."

He stepped closer. "You mean the bras?"

"There was more than one?"

"Three bras, three panties." He raked his gaze over her body. "I was very careful to get the right size."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "They're going back."

"No, they're not." When she opened her mouth to protest, he continued, "Because of me, you and your family are in danger. Because of me, your house was ruined. Most likely everything in your house has sustained smoke damage and will need to be replaced. I have cost you a fortune. The few things I purchased don't begin to repay you. It is I who is in debt to you."

She gave a sigh of defeat. "All right. Thank you."

"How are you feeling?" He didn't like to think he'd caused the dark smudges under her eyes.

"I'm very tired. I couldn't sleep last night."

"I apologize for the way you learned the truth. I should have told you earlier."

She slid her hands into her jeans pockets and regarded the floor. "Why didn't you?"

He closed his eyes briefly, wondering how to explain. "I was…beguiled by the way you looked at me and talked to me. As if I was normal. It was like being human again, with a home and family and a beautiful woman who actually found me attractive. I–I never had that when I was mortal."

"You never had women throwing themselves at you? That's hard to believe."

"I never had a home and family." He stepped closer to her. "It's taken me a long time to realize that's what I want more than anything."

She looked away, but he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Will you allow me the honor of courting you?"

She gave a short nervous laugh. "You sound so old-fashioned."

"Perhaps." He smiled wryly. "But I'm also very determined."

"I–I don't belong in your world."

"You can belong anywhere you want."

She rubbed her brow. "That's the problem. I don't want to belong there. But I don't want to hurt you. I—"

Ian jolted, and his chest heaved with a big breath.

"He's alive!" Robby exclaimed with a grin.

"Yes!" Phil punched the air with a fist.

Jean-Luc grinned. "Thank God."

"Oh, yes, yes!" Heather bounced up and down. "Yes!" She flung her arms around Jean-Luc's neck.

His heart swelled as he enveloped her in his arms. "Yes."

With a gasp, she pulled back. "Oh, I didn't mean—sorry. I was just so happy, I forgot…"

"That I was a monster?" he finished her sentence.

Her cheeks stained pink. "I don't think—"

"What happened?" Ian sat up.

"Ye've been sleeping on the job." Robby crossed his arms, frowning. "I should dock yer pay."

Ian glanced around with a confused look. "I'm…late?"

Robby laughed and extended a hand to help him up. "Ye had us worried, lad. How are ye feeling?"

Ian grabbed Robby's hand and slowly eased to his feet. "I'm all right, I think."

"You're at least an inch taller," Phil announced.

"I am?" Ian grinned. "It worked! I'm a year older. And I'm bloody well starving."

"Go downstairs and have yer breakfast," Robby ordered.

"I wish you wouldn't take the drug again," Heather said. "You were in so much pain."

"I'm sorry ye had to see it," Ian told her. "But I willna stop." He and Phil strode from the room.

"I'll leave ye two alone." Robby bowed and left the room.

"I should be going, too." Heather started for the door.

"What about your work?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Oh." She turned. "I finished the first gown." She motioned toward the dress form.

He walked toward it. "You decided not to do sleeves after all."

"No." She moved closer. "They were interfering with the fit of the bodice. So I thought I'd make a matching stole that can be draped like a scarf or worn like a shawl."

He nodded. "Good idea."

"I've been wondering—" She bit her bottom lip. "Who does the handwork on your designs?"

"Different women from France and Belgium, depending on what I need done. There's a woman in Brussels who makes the best lace, and another one in Brittany who does the most beautiful embroidery."

"Oh."

Had she suspected him of running a sweatshop somewhere? "I consider them artists and pay them very well. I could take you to see them, if you'd like to see their work."

"I–I don't think so." She backed away. "I should be going. I'm really tired."

He nodded. "You put in a long day."

"Yes. Good night." She practically ran from the room.

Jean-Luc sighed. She'd refused to let him court her. She still seemed a little afraid, but at least she no longer looked disgusted. He was making progress, but it was very slow.

He walked down the hall to Alberto's office and discussed the charity event. Then he teleported to his office to catch up on business. There were more than a hundred e-mails and a dozen reports from Paris to respond to. He was also coven master of Western Europe, so there were a few disputes to settle. He took a small break after midnight, downing another glass of synthetic blood from the stash he kept in his office.

It was after two in the morning when the alarm went off. Jean-Luc grabbed his sword, zoomed to Heather's bedroom, and flung open the door. They were in bed asleep. The alarm hadn't wakened them, for it was set at a frequency only vampires and dogs could hear. The alarm meant one thing—a vampire had teleported into the building.

He strode to the bathroom and checked inside. It was empty.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked sleepily.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Just making sure you're all right. Go back to sleep."

He spotted Robby in the hallway, so he zoomed into the hall and shut the door partway. "What happened?"

"It was Simone," Robby explained. "She claims she was bored, so she went out."

"Where did she go?"

"She wouldna say," Robby replied. "She teleported out with no one noticing, but when she came back, she triggered the alarm."

Jean-Luc recalled how Simone had boasted that she might have an affair with Lui. "She could be compromised."

"I know. Shall I send her away?"

"No. We want Lui to make his move so we can catch him."

"Fine. I'll keep an eye on her." Robby zipped down the stairs.

Heather peered through the half-opened door. "What's going on?"

"Everything's fine," Jean-Luc assured her.

She stepped into the hallway. "I heard you talking. You think Simone could be under Louie's control?"

"It's possible. He usually uses mortals, but he could manage to control a vampire, especially if she has a grudge."

"Like Simone." Heather frowned. "This mind control—you never used it on me, did you?"

He stiffened. "No, that would be dishonorable."

"I didn't mean to insult you."

His gaze wandered over her wonderfully mussed hair and rumpled pajamas. "If you were under my control, you would be downstairs right now in my bed."

"Oh."

"And you would be naked. And I would be—"

"All right! I get the picture."

He smiled slowly. "Was it good for you?"

She gave him an annoyed look.

"You look beautiful."

She snorted. "I don't have any makeup on."

"You're a natural beauty."

"It'll be short-lived. I'll get old and wrinkly."

"Time doesn't scare me." He stepped closer. "Let me court you."

She gave him an odd look, as if wariness and desire were battling inside her. "I'll think about it."

She eased into the bedroom and shut the door.

Yes, he was slowly making progress.